


Blackmail

by Marvelite5Ever



Series: Blackmail [1]
Category: Cable and Deadpool, Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 04:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5853982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvelite5Ever/pseuds/Marvelite5Ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade gets Irene to take a video on his phone of him chasing Baby!Nate around, and of course catching Baby!Nate and baby!Nate saying “Deadpoo dada!” so that they can used it as blackmail against Nate.... </p><p>But of course, Nate isn't really someone you can blackmail. </p><p>(End of issue <i>Cable & Deadpool</i> #17, end of issue #18, issue #42, after issue #50)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blackmail

**Author's Note:**

> Look what Marvelite5Ever found languishing in a folder on her laptop!! This was actually something that I wrote several months ago during the summer, but never posted because I hated the ending I'd written. And then I completely forgot about it. 
> 
> I found it again the other week, though, and it was like discovering a jacket in my closet that I'd never seen before, except that it was one I actually vaguely remembered, and remembered that I'd stopped wearing because it had a hole in it. But I sewed up the hole and fixed the ending, so now I'm posting it :) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**_Months ago..._ **

* * *

“Or maybe we should figure out what happened to Cable...?” Irene said weakly. 

“Huh?” Forge said, following her gaze to the glass cylinder, where Cable was standing below where Wade was hooked up. 

Because Cable was, well, a baby. A cute little pudgy baby, complete with a techno-virus infected left arm and chest, a glowing yellow left eye, and the characteristic, jagged X scar over his big blue right eye. 

“Ded-poo da-da!” the baby Cable burbled happily, looking through the glass at them. 

Irene and Forge stared. 

**“Isn't he cute?!”** Deadpool exclaimed. **“I found him in a farm house being raised by a domestic Mr. Sinister!”**

“This shouldn't have happened,” Forge frowned, rubbing his chin. 

“Why is Cable a baby?” Irene asked, voice still sounding weak as she stepped down to open the glass compartment, baby Cable toddling out to meet her. 

**“Hey, could somebody get me down?”** Deadpool asked, squirming in the straps of the harness that had been equipped with interspatial and intraspatial fluctuators that had been designed to use his teleporting link with Cable to track the other man down. **“I need to reach my phone so I can get a picture of the little tyke!”**

* * *

As soon as he was let down, Deadpool kneeled down in front of the burbling baby Cable, holding up the phone. **“Smile, Nate! This is going in the baby book!”** He clicked the button, only to realize a second later that he'd started taking a video rather than taken a picture. 

Baby Nate giggled and turned around, running off. 

**“GAAAAH! He can RUN!”** Deadpool cried, shoving his phone (which was still recording) into a stunned Irene's hand, before taking off after the toddler (he wasn't quite a baby anymore, running and all). **“A minute ago he was a _bowling ball_ with floppy fleshy attachments and now...”** he ran after toddler Nate, who was keeping just ahead of him. **“MY GOD, THOSE TINY LEGS MOVE FASTER THAN THEY HAVE ANY RIGHT TO!”**

“Bagga bagga bagga,” toddler Nate burbled as he ran through Cable's penthouse apartment, large objects being telekenetically lifted around him. “Phoo phoo phoo.” 

_“Get him!”_ Irene cried, phone still held in her hand, though she'd probably already forgotten she was holding it as she watched Deadpool chase the speedy toddler. 

**“I'M TRYING!”** Deadpool said, chasing after the young Nate who just kept darting around and changing directions on those short, chubby little legs, running under the floating objects he was lifting with his mind. **“Hey, baby by balco—the stuff he's picking up looks pretty heavy...”**

“The toddler _Cable_ is _telekenetic?_ ” Forge asked in astonishment. 

**“Yeah, _ya think?!”_** Deadpool said, diving forward, arms outstretched. 

“Fooooo,” toddler Nate burbled, lifting off the floor surrounded by a blue glow. 

**“Got 'im!”** Deadpool cried, wrapping his arms around the toddler, tackling him lightly out of the air and rolling upon hitting the ground, Nate held safely against his chest. 

“Dedpoo” toddler Nate burbled happily in his arms. 

**“Yeah, kid,”** Deadpool agreed. “Deadpoo.”

“Dada,” toddler Nate giggled, reaching out a chubby hand to grab at Deadpool's mask. 

**“Who can keep track?”** Deadpool said, carefully removing toddler Nate's hand from the fabric of his mask, wrapping one arm around him to pick him up. **“I'm like an NBA player that way...”**

“We have to get the equipment back online!” Irene said urgently, only realizing she was holding Deadpool's phone when she started down the ladder. She irritably clicked the screen to stop the video and tossed the phone aside in annoyance. 

Deadpool snatched the phone out of the air, slipping it into a pocket, even as he said, **“Hey... anyone else here smell _poop_ or is my axe effect failing me?”**

* * *

**_Weeks ago..._ **

* * *

Cable had just finished his story about the girl in the future who sacrificed herself for him and for their cause and how he didn't remember her name, and now he was looking rather distraught, so Wade figured he should break the serious mood with: _“You just totally made up the word 'mechagenics,' right?”_

Cable turned to look at him, focusing on _him_ , in the _present_ , not his memories of the future, so Wade considered that a win. 

**“You say someone's _already_ on the island lookin' to scavenge your data archives—and you won't let that happen even if it means killin' yourself...?”** Wade said, reminding Cable about the task at hand: namely, preventing the people who'd come to the island to steal secrets of the future from stealing said secrets. **“I say we take 'em out before it gets to that!”** Deadpool said vehemently, clenching a fist, the word 'DEAD' sewn into the back of his black glove. 

“Unfortunately, I can't go on the hunt with you,” Cable said, starting to rise unsteadily up into the air, a flickering blue glow around his body. “I have to _encrypt_ as much of the _data archives_ as I can—”

 **“Before you have to blow it all up?”** Deadpool asked, before remarking, **“Hey, lookin' a bit shaky there, Nate.”**

“My mutant powers returned when I accepted an alien parasite into my body,” Cable said, his telekenesis giving up on him as he fell back down to the ground, landing on one knee. “When it died, my restored _telepath_ was shut down. It seems my _telekenesis_ is slowly fading now, too...” 

**“So I watch your back while you do what you have to do,”** Deadpool said, like it was as easy a conclusion to come to as one plus one equals two. 

“Won't work,” Cable said, shaking his head as he stood up. “The people who've infiltrated the island don't know—”

 **“Then sheesh, don't say whatever they don't know aloud!”** Deadpool griped, putting a gloved hand over a surprised Cable's mouth, effectively silencing him. **“They'd no doubt never guess it, right? So you let me watch your back, we get what we need to do done, _then_ we can go back and do whatever the people who infiltrated the island don't know about.”** Deadpool stepped back and crossed his arms, eyes of his mask narrowing. 

“No, Wade—” Cable started. 

**“Don't you 'No, Wade' me!”** Deadpool snapped, prodding a finger into the larger man's chest. **“Because knowing _you_ and your _messiah complex_ , you're gonna sacrifice yourself blowin' this island apart!”** He jabbed Cable's chest again, accusingly. 

Cable blinked. “Wade, I'm not—”

 **“Okay, see, I was saving this blackmail footage for the right time,”** Deadpool said, glancing down as he roots around in his pouches, pulling out a smartphone, **“and I think that now is that time, so—Nate, if you die, I am going to upload the video to the internet.”** He held up his phone, waving it in front of Cable's face. 

“What video?” Cable asked, raising his eyebrows as he reached out to grab Deadpool's wrist, stilling the phone. 

**“This one I took of you as an ridiculous, adorable baby,”** Deadpool said, reaching over Cable's arm with his other hand to tap the screen and start the video. 

Nathan watched the short video of him as a baby running around and lifting heavy objects with his telekenesis, Wade chasing after him and catching him, and his toddler self saying, “Dedpoo, dada!” 

“...” Nathan said as the video ended, glancing up from the phone to look at Wade. 

**“I mean, you're an adorable little tyke, but you calling me 'dada'?”** Deadpool snorted, extricating his wrist from Cable's grasp. **“That is priceless, and will totally ruin your rep.”** The merc sniggered. **“I'd love to see Cyclops's face, though... gonna need to have Weasel rig me up something so I can tape Cyke's reaction... hey,”** he grinned hugely behind the mask, **“Cyke ryhmes with tyke!”**

Cable hummed, looking thoughtful. “Actually, it makes sense that I would call you that.” 

**“Wait, what?** Deadpool asked, blinking. 

“As a small child, the only feelings of love are associated with the parents, so it makes sense that any other kind of affection would be translated into a paternal connection while at that age,” Cable explained. 

**“Wait, what?”** Deadpool asked, blinking some more, then rubbing at his eyes before looking at Cable again. **“You mean you...?”**

Cable raised his eyebrows, a corner of his lips quirking. 

**“Nevermind!”** Deadpool said hurriedly, shaking his head and holding up his hands. **“I never asked anything! Don't ask, don't tell, right?”** Deadpool tucked his phone back into one of his many pouches, lowering his voice as he said, more to himself than to Cable: **“And never ask questions you don't want to know the answers to... learned that one the hard way, remember?”**

Cable had turned to look at their surroundings, eyes narrowed, as if he could feel someone watching them.“Wade,” he said, turning to the merc, an urgent note in his tone, “I need you to retrieve my backup bypass.” 

**“Backup bypass?”** Deadpool asked, looking at him. 

“I don't know if it's been damaged,” Cable explained. “I need you to retrieve it—keep it safe. It's the one ace we have up our sleeve...” 

**“Okay, where's this backup?”** Wade asked, hands low on his hips as he turned partially away, looking at Cable over his shoulder. 

“My apartment,” Cable said as he assembled a gun with the last remnants of his telekenesis. “Trophy case three. Inside the souvenir maquette of Anton Krutch.”

 **“Sly dog,”** Wade said, almost fondly. 

“Wade...” Nathan started, turning to look at the merc, expression entirely too honest. 

**“Do not say thank you,”** Wade said immediately, narrowing his eyes as he pointed an accusing finger at him. **“Do not say you're proud of me. Do not say goodbye.”**

“Your zipper is down,” Nathan said, not missing a beat. 

Wade spread his legs, bending slightly to look down at his crotch. Of course, he was wearing his Deadpool outfit, and there was no zipper. 

“Made you look,” Nathan said, smirking. 

**“You are so immature...”** Wade said over his shoulder as he took off running towards Nathan's apartment. 

Nathan turned and started walking in the other direction, feeling all the things Wade wouldn't let him say aloud. 

_Thank you. I'm proud of you._

_Good-bye._

* * *

* * *

It turned out that, when Providence got blown up, Cable didn't actually die.

Yes, he survived. Because of course he did. 

Or maybe he did die, and then came back to life. Who knew, really? Even Cable wasn't sure. 

He'd survived worse, of course, he just thought it was due to his telepathy and telekenesis, both of which had been returned when he'd accepted the Mummudrai into his mind, then lost again when the Mummudrai alien parasite had died. 

And yet, somehow Cable still survived. 

He came to lying on a small piece of the island that was still floating and had sat up and groaned, his whole body aching. He looked around, seen nothing but ocean stretching in all directions. 

Still, he wasn't dead. It wasn't his time yet, then—he'd been given yet another lease on life. 

He'd vowed to himself to use it. 

He still had reasons to live. He knew he did. Even with Providence forever gone, destroyed and sunk beneath the ocean. 

Nathan had reasons to keep living, even if he couldn't think of them at the moment. 

He felt worn out, drained. Exhausted. Weary. 

Lying on the floating piece of island, Nathan looked up at the night sky, the countless stars, the band of the Milky Way that couldn't be seen from any city. But out here, in the dark, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, not an artificial light within hundreds of miles—the Milky Way appeared as a brilliant, if not eerie, band of stars and dust clouds far, far beyond the reaches of Earth's sky. 

The sky was always so much bigger at night, the eye able to see so much farther. 

The piece of island rocked slightly from the gentle waves moving across the ocean's surface, the water lapping cold at Nathan's legs. He was soaked to the bone, and shivered. Being half made out of metal didn't exactly help him maintain body heat. 

Nathan was floating in the middle of the ocean, no land visible in any direction, and it would have been so easy to let himself die there—push himself off the makeshift raft and let the metal in his body drag him to the bottom of the ocean—he probably could die, too, without his powers to keep him alive no matter what happened to him. 

Nathan sat up, looking down at the dark, dark water, letting his flesh fingers trail just beneath the surface as he tried to think of a reason to try to survive. A reason to try swimming for land, no matter how far away it was. 

He just needed a _purpose_. He'd never make it to land if he didn't have a goddamn good reason to make it there. 

But his dream to show the world a better way was lost. Providence was gone. Rumekistan was well on the way to a successful democracy without his further intervention. Domino would be fine without him. Irene would be fine. X-Force could care for themselves. The X-Men didn't need him. 

And then, there was Wade. Deadpool. The crazy Merc with a Mouth who once, many years ago, had been sent to kill him, and who Nathan never thought he'd end up actually _caring_ for. 

And he did care about Wade, didn't he? More so than he'd realized, maybe. That video Wade had shown him, of himself as a baby, his obvious affinity for Wade even without any of his memories... just how deep-rooted was his affection for Wade? 

He'd been willing to sacrifice himself for the merc—used what he thought had been his last act to teleport Wade to safety…

Wade was, without a doubt, one of the people that mattered _most_ to him. 

And damn if Nathan didn't want to seen Wade again, if he didn't want to make sure that Wade was _okay._

So it was thoughts of Wade that made him lower himself into the water and start swimming towards Australia, using the stars as his guide. 

It would be a far stretch, but Nathan was nothing if not determined when he set his mind to something. 

And he loved swimming in the ocean, anyway. It calmed his mind, brought him peace, made him feel free like nothing else did. In the dark weightlessness of the water, neither the metal in his body nor his responsibilities (both real and imagined) were such a burden. In the ocean, he wasn't the most important the most important creature; he was not important at all. 

Maybe he'd even be lucky enough to encounter some whales—those elegant, graceful giants of the sea.  
The ocean was calming, and Nathan had a good reason to make it to shore. 

So he'd make it—no matter how long and far he had to swim.

* * *

_**A week ago...** _

* * *

Wade was not missing Nate. He was not missing Nathan Fucking Wannabe-Messiah Summers. Not at all. And he definitely wasn't _grieving_ either. Definitely not. 

'Grieve' was such a stupid word, anyways. It sounded like squeaky gates that had hinges that hadn't been oiled in way too long and scrooped when you opened them, and that smelled like rotting wood and fell apart when you kicked them in frustration because they didn't open at first because you were pushing on a pull gate. It looked like one of those leather gloves that you wore when you were holding a bird of prey on your arm so that the bird's talons didn't impale you—but the glove was black and burnt, like you'd been using the glove to hold a phoenix on your arm instead of just some goddamn eagle or whatever. 

See? Totally stupid. Squeaky, rotten gates didn't not perform their proper gate functions of keeping stuff out or in and that were supposed to swing both ways but didn't, and leather gloves were not made for trying to hold cosmic forces of creation and destruction and shit. 

Did the Phoenix shit if it was a cosmic entity? Maybe it shit out fireballs, or volcanoes or something. If it ate all those worlds, it had to shit out _something_ , right? Oh hey! Maybe that's what dark matter is! Phoenix shit! Try to wrap your minds around _that_ one, astro-anomaly people! Astronomolymers, right? Kinda like pollymers, except not underwater parrots. 

So no, Wade was not grieving Nate. He was a merciless killer—merciless killers were psychopaths or something and couldn't grieve people. It was against the rules. He'd probably signed a contract against it when he'd first started in the mercenary business. 

And besides, why should he be sad if Nate was hangin' with Death? Wade should be _jealous!_

...Okay, so he was actually totally jealous. Not grieving! 

And wait—jealous of Nate for being with Death, or jealous of _Death_ for being with _Nate?_

...What, he couldn't be jealous of _both?_

But no, that was all stupid, all of it—Nate would be back. Those comic book writers—and artists, don't forget about the artists—had to make more money! Of _course_ they'd bring Cable back, gun-toting tough guy from the future! 

So therefore, there was no reason to grieve—even if he was grieving, which he was not, because 'grieving' was stupid—because Nate would be back, probably sooner rather than later, and he would probably have undergone one of those continuity-wipes where he'd have completely forgotten about ever having been best buds with Deadpool, and when he encountered Deadpool several hundred years in the future he would have to ask God to help him deal with the nutcase because he was so a-N-N-NOYing. 

But that was cool, the continuity-wiping people would probably get ahold of Wade, soon, and make _him_ forget about his and Nate's ballistic bromance and fantastic frenenemy-ship. So all these stupid feelings would go away. 

_not_ have a soul—if he didn't have a soul he wouldn't have to spend so much time hating Alex Hayden for making him look up the word 'grieve' and then giving him paid leave—hey, that rhymed!—just so he could, what? Sit here on his couch in his apartment and try to rot his brain by watching TV for days straight? 

Too bad his brain actually _couldn't_ rot, and he couldn't even get fucking drunk... actually, he was pretty sure watching TV wasn't doing _anything_ for him, because he was staring at the TV, which was on, but he hadn't seen or heard it for the past... he glanced at the clock... seven hours? 

That's it, he was done. He was just done. 

Time to get off his ass and get back to Agency X so he could get a job where he'd hopefully get to kill someone. 

Yeah, killing someone would definitely make him feel better. 

Wade got up off the couch, turning the TV off with the remote even as he went to get his Deadpool outfit on, grinning in what felt like the first time since... well, since Providence had gone 'splodey and sunk. 

He was halfway through pulling on his pants when he realized that, oh, wait, he was trying to turn over a good leaf (that was the phrase, right?) and not kill people so as not to let Nate's memory down... 

Well, he figured as he pulled his pants the rest of the way up and picked up his shirt, he'd just have to make sure that whoever he killed _really_ deserved it. Like, 100% completely.

* * *

_**A few weeks ago...** _

* * *

Nathan had made it to Australia, had dragged himself, exhausted, out of the ocean onto the beach, collapsing into the sand, the sun beating down on him. He'd already been tired before he'd even set out and swam for hours nonstop, and now his body was so utterly spent... 

There had been shouts, footsteps and voices around him, beach-goers wondering what to do with the man that had just washed up on shore. 

“I have to...” Nathan had said weakly, trying to push himself up. “Have to...” 

His vision had swum and his body had trembled as he tried to crawl forwards, only for his muscles to give out on him as he fell back into the sand, the world going black as someone called an ambulance.

* * *

**_A few days ago..._ **

* * *

Nathan had woken up in a hospital, apparently a week later. He'd been recognized, of course—it was hard to mistake him, especially with how much he'd been in the news over the past year—but somebody, one of the doctors maybe, had insisted on keeping it quiet. Apparently they hadn't even been sure he'd survive, he'd been so exhausted and dehydrated. 

He'd snuck out of the hospital (he didn't need telepathy to do something like that—that was just experience and training), acquired a jacket from the local thrift store to hide his metal arm, a pair of sunglasses to hide his distinctive eyes, and had went on his way using public transportation. 

Australia was a large and mostly unpopulated country—it had been lucky he'd washed up at a city.  
He needed to get to an airport and fly back to Manhattan. Suddenly it felt more imperative than ever that he get to Wade. 

He had to stop to eat and rest at a few motels along the way, of course, and all the travel and downtime gave him an abundant amount of time to think. 

And the more he thought, the more he realized just how much he missed Wade. Wade's easy and almost manic smiles. Wade's voice. The ridiculous things he said. The crazy things he did. The way he kept _trying_ , no matter what. His scarred skin. 

Nathan found himself wondering what Wade's skin felt like, wondering what Wade's lips tasted like, wondering what Wade sounded like when he came, wondering when his feelings for the merc had started changing from friendship to love. 

That wasn't to say he still didn't think about Domino, and his love for her—but that was different, somehow—a remnant from their past that they couldn't let go of. They cared about each other, but they didn't _need_ each other. He hadn't been so desperate to have Domino back by his side that he'd linked her subconscious with the infonet, hoping she'd come to him for help. 

No, he'd done that to Wade—it hindsight he could see that it had been a mistake, that he'd hurt Wade more than he'd meant to—but he'd been so _desperate_ to have Wade back fighting _with_ him rather than _against_ him. 

And then when Wade had showed up on Providence to help, had fought Creed so that Domino and Irene could escape—Nathan had felt something inside him lighten considerably at the news, had felt his heart leap at seeing Wade again, at hearing Wade say, “Aaah, you had me at 'hello' and you know it! Okay, what now?” and having the mercenary at his side again. 

Wade made him smile, made him _laugh_ , more than he'd done either in a long, long time. He didn't know if he'd ever met anyone who could brighten his spirits quite like Wade could. 

Nathan had used Wade's obvious crush on him to manipulate the mercenary more than once—he wasn't proud of it, but he didn't regret it, and yet he knew that Wade deserved _better_ than that. 

Wade had been abused and used for his entire life, and it made Nathan feel sick to realize that he'd only contributed to that. And yet Wade had always come back when Nathan had needed him most. 

Wade wanted so badly to be loved, and to be a hero... 

Nathan thought he could help him with both. _Wanted_ to be able to help him with both. 

Wade was damaged, and Nathan may not be able to _fix_ Wade, but maybe he could start healing him.

* * *

**_Now..._ **

* * *

It had been a busy, exciting day for Deadpool. 

He'd gone on a mission with Outlaw that morning, completed it smoothly and easily, returned to Agency X and hung out with Outlaw and Sandi and Alex and Bob for a while, then went home, and Weasel came over to give him the custom-made gun he'd asked for, and then they'd talked for a while (argued about what the best moments of _Battlestar Galactica_ were, which had almost devolved into violence), and then Weasel had left, and Wade was now examining his brand new gun and trying to think about the best place to test the gun when there was a knock on the door. 

**“Oh goodie, maybe I've found a test subject!”** Deadpool said brightly, swaggering over to the door and throwing it open with a languid: **“Boo.”**

Then Deadpool blinked. Because there, lo and behold, was Nathan Cable Priscilla Askani-whatever Achoo Summers, standing there like a fucking half-metal mountain. 

“Hello, Wade,” Nathan said, smiling. 

Deadpool stared at him. 

Nathan's smile flickered slightly. 

**“Nate?”** Deadpool asked, sounding confused. 

“Yes,” Nathan agreed. He raised his white eyebrows slightly. “Am I allowed inside?” 

Wordlessly, Deadpool stood back, allowing the other man inside, closing the door behind him. 

“Wade?” Nathan asked, turning to the mercenary with concern, brow furrowed. “Are you... okay? Say something.” 

**“You're alive!”** Deadpool suddenly exclaimed, lunging forward to hug Nathan around the chest, pinning the other man's arms to his sides. 

Nathan gave a surprised chuckle, and Deadpool quickly let go, taking a step back and absentmindedly twirling the gun in his hand. 

**“Even if I already knew you would be,”** Deadpool continued casually. **“I mean, that humanitarian weapon from the future was a pretty big giveaway, but I knew you'd be back before that, too, cuz of plot reasons to continue your story and whatever, although I kinda figured you'd get brought back and then immediately flung into the future with some random mutant baby or something...”** Deadpool looked down at the gun in his hand, up at Nathan guiltily, and then quickly stuffed the gun behind the couch cushions, turning back to the other man and spreading his hands in a silent, 'Tadaaa! I got rid of it!' 

Nathan's lips twitched. “I noticed that you never actually posted that video onto the internet,” he remarked.

 **“Yeah, well...”** Deadpool said, scuffing his boot on the floor and scratching at the back of his mask. **“I kinda realized that there wasn't much of a point...”**

“Because I wouldn't be embarrassed?” Nathan asked.

 **“Yeah,”** Wade said with a shrug, flopping down on one end of the couch, gesturing for Nathan to sit down and make himself comfortable or whatever. **“And because, y'know, the world wouldn't believe it was actually you, anyway. I mean the world wouldn't really believe you have such a cute, fluffy side, now would it?”**

“And _you_ believe that I do?” Nathan asked, sitting down on the couch next to him, almost carefully—it was only a two-person couch as it was, and with two extremely muscular (sometimes)-superheroes on it? Things were a little tight, to say the least. 

**“You certainly have _soft spots,_ Priscilla,”** Deadpool snorted. **“And one of them is obviously for _me_ , cuz you never got around to _killing me_ like you threatened to.”**

Nathan stared at him, the corners of his lips tugging downwards. “I'm tired of the 'not showing emotions' game, Wade,” he said quietly. 

**“Yeah, well, you need quite a lot of hope to opt out of that game,” Deadpool pointed out, leaning back against the couch and throwing one leg over the armrest, hands folding behind his head. **“To wear your heart on your sleeve, _hoping_ it won't get torn off?”** He sniggered, as if it were actually funny. **“Hope's the one thing I can never afford to** _have_ , remember?” **

“And I can never lose hope,” Nathan pointed out softly, looking at the merc. 

**“So, what's your dream now, big guy?”** Deadpool asked, the foot rest over the armrest bouncing up and down in the air to some fast, erratic beat. 

“I thought you weren't asking questions you didn't want to know the answers to?” Nathan asked, left eye twinkling slightly as the corners of his lips twitched upwards. 

**“Why, is you dream a dangerous subject?”** Deadpool asked, turning his head to look at the other man, the eyes of his mask narrowing in suspicion. 

Nathan's lips were pulling upward in something between a smirk and a genuine smile. “Everything involving you is dangerous, Wade,” he said, right eye seeming to twinkle almost as much as his left. 

Deadpool's eyes narrowed further. **“And _I'm_ involved in your dream now, am I?”**

“Yes.” 

And suddenly Nathan was leaning close to him, pulling off his mask gently and pressing a kiss against his chapped lips. 

Wade was frozen for a few minutes, eyes open wide as Nathan kissed him. 

Nathan's eyes were closed. 

**“Um,” Wade said, pulling away and looking at Nathan like a deer caught in the headlights. **“Did I go so insane with grieving that I'm hallucinating now?”**** he asked, rubbing at his eyes, before opening them again, blinking at the man next to him. 

Nathan frowned slightly. 

**“Because I didn't even know that 'grieve' was an actual word,”** Wade continued, babbling nervously, eyes flicking around the room. **“I mean, c'mon, _grieve?_ Grieve grieve grieve grieve sieve leave weave sneeze. It totally sounds made up—but Alex made me look up the definition, and then gave me payed leave, but I was totally _not_ grieving cuz I _knew_ you'd be back, just figured you'd be too busy to drop by and say, 'Hi! I'm alive now! Sorry for being dead so long!' so I must be hallucinat—”**

Nathan's expression had softened to some kind of fondness again, and he silenced Wade with another kiss, short and soft, reassuring but still somehow with a desperate edge. 

“Grief _is_ a complex concept,” Nathan said as he pulled back, smiling slightly, a hand trailing from Wade's chiseled but roughly textured cheek down to his neck. “There are so many facets and nuances to it. Love is the same way.” 

Wade grabbed the gun he'd stuffed behind the couch cushions and started to put it to his own head. 

Nathan quickly grabbed his wrist, stopping him, forcing Wade's arm and the gun he was holding down. 

“You know, Wade, that video you showed me?” Nathan said softly, trying to meet Wade's eyes. The merc wouldn't look at him, so Nathan took Wade's chin in his hands, tilting his face towards him. “It made me realize something. That video made me realize just how much my... _care,_ for you, went.” 

**“Oh? Is that so, illusion Nate?”** Wade asked, rolling his eyes. 

“Really, I'm still an illusion?” Nathan asked, expression slightly dejected. 

**“Well, more like a fantasy, probably,”** Wade shrugged.

“You get those often?” Nathan asked, raising his eyebrows as he stroked Wade's cancer-ravaged jaw with a metal thumb. 

**“Well, not _normally_ this vividly,”** Wade said thoughtfully, leaning into Nathan's touch, **“except when that Black Mamba worked her deep, dark fantasy voodoo, and I found myself giving you a massage on a beach with suntan lotion.”** He huffed indignantly. **“I got that both times she did that to me, too!”**

“So that's what the suntan lotion was about,” Nathan remarked, definitely smiling now, and both his eyes were doing their weird but different twinkling things again. 

**“Yup,”** Wade said, shrugging again, before looking at Nathan, raising his hairless eyebrows. **“So, _illusion Nate_ , you gonna tell me what _your_ deep, dark fantasy was?”**

“I succeeded in changing the world,” Nathan said, sounding slightly wistful, before he shook his head, hand moving up to trace the textured, cancerous skin of Wade's cheek. He smiled softly. “But now that that's not a possibility anymore, I'd say that my deep, dark fantasy has changed.” 

**“...To what?” Wade asked, brown eyes narrowing as he grabbed Nathan's metal wrist, stilling the gentle circles of the other man's T-O thumb on his skin.**

“Are you willing to hear the answer?” Nathan asked, eyebrows quirking. 

**“Goddamit, Nate!”** Wade snapped, jerking to his feet so he was standing over the other man, throwing up his hands. **“I thought you were tired of these games!”**

“Not these ones,” Nathan admitted, smirking slightly as he leaned back into the couch, spreading his arms along the top of the backrest. “I like seeing you flustered.” 

**“Okay, well, _this_ is me flustered!”** Wade retorted, whipping out the gun and aiming it between Nathan's eyes, the one blank and glowing yellow while the blue one met Wade's gaze calmly. **“And you know how my trigger finger gets twitchy!”**

“Well, at least you don't seem to think I'm an illusion anymore,” Nathan remarked, lips twitching.

 **“Nah, only the _real_ you could ever be so maddening,”** Wade growled, his grip on the gun never wavering. 

“I want to be something substantial with you, Wade,” Nathan said, expression sobering as he sat up. “Is that so hard to believe?” 

**“Uh, _yes,_ ”** Deadpool said, throwing his arms out, the gun now pointing at the window. **“I thought you had a thing goin' on with Domino!”**

“I did,” Nathan said. “But it...” he looked down, “it wouldn't have worked out. I'm not what she needs,” he said, looking back up at Wade, “and she's not what I want.” 

**“And what you want is _this?!_ ”** Wade demands, gesturing at himself with the gun—the scarred, cancer-ravaged skin, the red and black suit that was a reminder of just what his job was—of who _he_ was. A crazy, deranged, ugly, ADHD killing machine. 

Nathan looked at him, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. “Yes,” he said seriously. 

**“Geez, and here I thought _I_ was crazy!”** Wade exclaimed, hands to his head, where they'd be knotting in his hair if he'd had any. 

“Is it so wrong to love, and to be loved in return?” Nathan asked, eyes almost pleading. 

Wade turned around, demanding of the walls: **“Who's crazier—the crazy person, or the person who loves the crazy person?!”**

“You tell me,” Nathan said, have gotten up to stand behind Wade, a hand on the mercenary's shoulder, gently turning him around. 

Wade whirled, one of his fists flying. 

Nathan caught the punch in one hand, wrapping his other arm around Wade's waist and pulling the merc into another kiss, which Wade returned hungrily for a few moments before jerking away, glaring. 

“I _want you_ , Wade,” Nathan stressed, his expression so honest it hurt. “I want _you._ ”

 **“And you think that you're what _I need?_ ”** Wade demanded, one hand clenched in a fist, the other hand clenched around the gun. 

“I thought you wanted this as well, Wade,” Nathan said softly, looking dejected again. 

**“I... I do, but...!”** Wade stammered, expression stressed and torn, like he was fighting with himself. 

“Then relax,” Nathan said, pulling Wade close again and kissing a line down his jaw, saying between kisses: “It's alright. We'll take this slow. What do you think,” he pulled back, offering the stunned mercenary a disarming smile, “would you like to go on a date with me?” 

**“A— _what?_ ”** Wade said, blinking in astonishment. **“Are you _serious?_ ”** His hand clenched a little too hard around the gun and he accidentally squeezed the trigger, a bullet shooting into the floor with a _BANG!_ and a flash of light like a firecracker. 

Wade and Nathan both jumped back, staring down at the smoking spot on the floor. 

Wade had forgotten that he was holding the custom-made gun with the exploding bullets... 

Nathan chuckled, stepping closer to the merc and pulling Wade into another kiss. He pulled away a hairsbreadth to murmur, “This is me being very,” he punctuated this with a kiss, “ _very_ serious.” Another short kiss, just teasing lips. 

**“Okay, you're not an illusion,”** Wade said, pulling away and taking a few steps back to narrow his eyes at Nathan from a safer distance, **“but—evil clone?”**

“Wade...” Nathan said, doubt flickering across his features. “I'm sorry if I'm coming on strong... I don't mean to push you. I...” his eyes searched the merc's stoic face, “if you don't want to try this, just tell me, and I'll leave.” 

Wade stared at him silently for several moments, Nathan fidgeting and biting slightly at his lower lip, before the mercenary down. 

Nathan's shoulders slumped in defeat, and he turned, consciously straightening himself up as he made his way to the door. 

**“No! Wait!”** Wade cried, rushing after Nathan and grabbing his shoulder, pulling him around to crush his lips against his, Nathan immediately returning the kiss just as desperately, his metal hand wrapping around Wade's waist to pull him closer while his flesh hand splayed against the back of Wade's head. 

**“I _do_ want this,”** Wade said, pulling back to meet Nathan's gaze, **“it's just...”** one of his gloved hands brushed over the T-O flesh just behind Nathan's left ear. **“Nate,”** he said, eyes almost pleading, **“this is all just too good to _believe!_ ”**

Nathan brought his flesh hand around to brush Wade's cheek beneath his left eye. “I know this is... _different_ , for us...” Nathan said softly. “...For both of us... I know it's scary...”

 **“Scary?!”** Wade demanded, pulling back even further to look at Nathan indignantly. **“Shit, man, this is terrifying!”**

Nathan gave a little chuckle of agreement. “But I want to try this, Wade...” he said, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the mercenary's brow, before leaning down so that his forehead rested against Wade's. “I want to do this with you...” his T-O hand clenched in the material of Wade's Deadpool costume. “I want to do this _right...”_

**“So...”** Wade said, tilting his head to nip at Nathan's jaw, laughing when the larger man started in surprise before chuckling fondly at the merc. **“What did you have in mind for that date, then?”** Wade asked, waggling his hairless eyebrows. 

“I was going to ask you that, actually,” Nathan admitted, clearing his throat in what could almost be considered a self-conscious manner—if Nathan Ask Canny Sun Summers ever got self-conscious, right? “I'm not exactly... _experienced,_ in dating.” 

**“And you think that I _am?_ ”** Wade snorted, gesturing at his face. **“People aren't exactly lining up to get a piece of _this_ action, y'know.”**

“I figured you'd have some _ideas_ , at least,” Nathan smirked, even as he traced a hand over the mercenary's cancer-scarred features, as if he couldn't get enough now that he'd essentially gotten Wade's full permission to touch. 

**“You know, wherever we go, we're gonna attract trouble,”** Wade pointed out, before turning his head and licking the palm of Nathan's hand. 

“Probably,” Nathan agreed with a snort, pointedly wiping the hand on Wade's suit, making the mercenary snicker. 

**“Which is normally fun,”** Wade said, sobering slightly as he shrugged, **“but I don't really feel like getting into trouble right now, y'know?”**

“Completely,” Nathan said, leaning forward so that his breath tickled the merc's ear, running his hands up and down Wade's sides, feeling the uneven texture of his skin through the material of the suit. 

**“So, what do you say we just stay in?”** Wade suggested, humming softly as Nathan started nibbling at his neck. **“Order some take-out, put in a movie, maybe smooch some more on the couch... heh, 'smooch' is a funny word...”**

Nathan shifted his attention back to Wade's lips, his tongue teasing the mercenary's mouth open, their tongues exploring each other's mouths, both of them moaning softly. 

When they pulled apart, panting, Nathan smiled, saying, “I think that's a perfect idea.” 

**“Whoa,”** Wade said, blinking like the kiss had left him dizzy, even though he'd no doubt fared better on the temporary lack of oxygen than Nathan had. **“This is really real?”** Wade said in wonder, looking up at to meet Nathan's gaze, brown eyes wide. **“Like _really_ real?”**

“Yes, Wade,” Nathan said, smiling. “This is very real.” 

**“Whoa,”** Wade said again, before wrapping his arms around Nathan's neck and dragging him down into another kiss, closing his eyes. 

**“Y'know...”** Wade said between kisses, **“I think I'm gonna... like this very... very much... like... more than I like... saying the word... 'chimichanga...'”**

“Wade...” Nathan groaned, as one of the mercenary's hands slid down to grip his ass. 

**“You want me to shut up?”** Wade asked distractedly, moving his mouth to suck on the metal side of Nathan's neck. 

“No, Wade, don't shut up...” Nathan moaned, eyes closed, breath panting. “Your voice is actually... quite the turn-on...” 

**“Good to know,”** Wade said, a smirk in his voice as he gave Nathan's ass one last squeeze before pulling away, dancing out of reach. 

“I didn't know... you were such a tease...” Nathan said, trying to catch his breath, though he was smiling as he watched dug around the couch cushions for something, pulling out various guns and knives and grenades—none of which seemed safe items to get lost in a couch... and to think: Nathan had just been _sitting_ on that couch—and tossing them aside. 

**“Learn something new every day, Nate!”** Wade said cheerfully, finally finding what he was looking for, which seemed to be his cellphone, and straightening out the couch cushions again. **“If we're gonna do this date thing we're gonna do it _right,_ ”** he said, pointing a finger at Nathan as if expecting him to object, **“and that means _food_ and _movie_ , and we're not getting past second base on a first date. I'm not that _easy,_ y'know.”** He sent Nathan a glare. **“If you wanna get any farther than that, you gotta keep comin' 'round. You gotta show me you _mean_ it, Nate,”** he said, gesturing around with his hands, **“cuz this is _weird_ and I'm not convinced.”**

“Then I'll have to keep coming around and convince you,” Nathan said easily, walking over to settle on the couch that was probably now mostly de-armed (arms as in weapons, not arms as in armrests), lips twitching. 

**“You do that,”** Wade said, frowning as he browsed through something on his phone. **“So, what should we order, huh? Mexican?”**

“Not exactly the kindest on the digestive track,” Nathan pointed out. 

**“True...”** Wade admitted. **“Wouldn't want to ruin our date with too much flatulence... heh, 'flatulence,'”** he sniggered, before his eyes lit up and he tapped something on the scream, putting the phone to his ear. **“Good ol' New York style pizza it is, then!”**

Wade paces in circles around the couch as he orders, not even bothering to ask Nathan what kind of pizza he'd like, just ordering a medium of everything. 

Nathan raised his white eyebrows as Wade hung up. “That's a lot of pizza,” he remarked. 

**“Do you know how many calories it takes to be healing from cancer all the time?”** Wade asked, waving a hand at himself. 

“A lot, I take it,” Nathan answered. 

**“Not too mention I got shot up a bit this morning, and I think I might've forgotten to eat lunch,”** Wade adds, plopping down on the couch next to Nathan and looking around for the remote, only to get back up and crouch down in front of the couch, grabbing the remote out from under the piece of furniture before settling back down on the cushions, turning the TV on and scrolling through the on-demand internet streaming for movies and TV shows. 

**“So, how do you feel about watching _Avengers: Age of Ultron_ , even though it sucks?”** Wade asked. 

“I thought we weren't allowed to break the fourth wall when it wasn't a recap page,” Nathan remarked, eyebrows raising. 

**“Eh, this is just a fanfiction, it's okay,”** Wade shrugged, clicking on the movie and setting the remote down on the floor on the other side of the armrest, settling back into the couch. **“And besides, I'm _Deadpool_ —breaking the fourth wall is what I _do_. You, however,” **Wade grinned, turning to poke Nathan in the chest, **“grizzly soldier from the future, are**** _not_ allowed to break Wall Number Four.”**

“Of course,” Nathan smirked, wrapping an arm around Wade's shoulders and pulling him close. 

**“Aww, Nate, I didn't know you were so snuggly!”** Wade exclaimed, even as he shifted so he was basically sitting on Nathan's lap, leaning back against the larger man's broad, solid chest. 

“I'm not,” Nathan admitted, snaking an arm around Wade's waist. “Not usually, anyway,” he adds, breath hot against Wade's ear. 

**“So I'm just the exception, huh?”** Wade asked, smirking as he tilted his head back to meet Nathan's gaze. 

“Always,” Nathan said, placing a kiss against the mercenary's temple. 

**“Mm, this is disgusting,”** Wade groaned, leaning back against him and shuddering. 

“You don't like it?” Nathan asked, with one of those ridiculous kicked puppy looks, which that glowing eye really didn't help with. Really. Completely seriously. Not at all. 

**“I never said that!”** Wade exclaimed, sitting up to look at Nathan in alarm. **“I NEVER SAID THAT!”**

Nathan put a finger against Wade's lips. “I was teasing,” he said gently, eyes doing that totally-not-adorable twinkling thing. 

**“I knew that...”** Wade pouted, leaning back against him as he turned his attention back to the screen, where the Avengers of Earth-199999 were attacking a Hydra base in the cold, snowy woods of Sokovia. 

Nathan rested his cheek against the mercenary's bald head. “I know, Wade.” 

**“So, Nate,”** Wade said, eyes on the screen, **“have you ever heard Captain America curse? Because I actually don't think that I have. I wonder if he'd tell me to mind my language if I cursed around him? Even though everything's censored in the comics? Hey, Nate, remind me to swear a lot around Steve next time I see him, okay?**

**“And you know, I really don't know what I think about this pairing with Black Widow and the Hulk. I mean, that could _never_ work, here! This cinematic universe is way too empathetic to Banner, I think. And to Loki. And to Pietro and Wanda. I mean seriously, who likes Pietro Maximoff here?! He's more hated than _I_ am!**

**“Hey Nate, did ya know that I'm getting my own movie? Haha, and Ryan Reynolds is playing me, hell yes! And it's going to be rated R, and it's coming out next February! Will you see it with me? And did you know that you're gonna be in the sequel?! It's gonna be fucking _awesome!_**

**“And dude, can you believe that the actress playing the Scarlet Witch is the younger sister of the Olsen Twins?! I mean _wowza_ , right?! **

**“Wow, okay, Scarlett Johansen is, like, really hot. Of course the hottest person in any of these movies is Sebastian Stan, cuz, y'know, I think I have a thing for muscular, kickass dudes with metal arms...”**

And if Wade talked throughout the entire movie, so much so that Nathan could hardly tell what was going on in the film? Well, Nathan wasn't about to tell his lover to shut up. 

And besides, Wade was actually more interesting than the movie, anyway.

* * *

* * *

A few hours later, when the movie credits had just finished rolling and Wade was so angry about the lack of a post-credits scene that he was throwing empty pizza boxes around the room, Nathan took the opportunity to ask: “So, what are you going to do about that video?” 

**“I am going to call up Joss Whedon and Kevin Feige and tell them exactly what I think about their lame-o decision not to put in a scene after the credits!”** Wade shouted, stomping on a pizza box until it was completely flattened, then picking it up and chucking it at the trash bin in kitchen a room over. **“I mean, don't they realize what a bad tactic that is?! All the other Marvel movies have a post-credits scene, and we've all come to _expect_ them! And then to not put one in?! That's really, _really_ bad tactic, because it leaves everyone feeling _disappointed—especially since the movie was already disappointing anyway—and people always remember the _last feelings_ of things—read that on a psychology site that Dr. Bong posted a link to on his Facebook page—which means what people will remember most about the movie is feeling _disappointed,_ and you are _not_ supposed to feel disappointed after watching a high-action superhero film! I mean, the scene didn't even have to be anything _important_ —hell, the end-credits scene from the first Avengers movie was just them silently eating shawarma! But it wouldn't have taken _much_ , is what I'm saying, they could've—”_**

“Not that video,” Nathan interjected, raising his eyebrows at Wade's rant and acts of violence against the pizza boxes, which were probably actually just Wade's way of cleaning up. 

**“Then _what_ video?”** Wade asked, huffing in annoyance as he kicked a pizza box across the floor. 

“The one of me as a baby,” Nathan said. 

**“Eh, I dunno,”** Wade shrugged, opening the trash bin and beginning to stuff the flattened pizza boxes in, crushing them to make them fit. **“Keep it on my phone to show it to the kids?”**

“You're not going to post it on the internet and send it to my dad?” Nathan asked, his tone sounding almost... disappointed. 

**“I thought we established that I wasn't—wait,”** Wade said, whirling around to stare at Nathan with wide eyes. **“ _Wait._ Do you _want_ me to post it on the internet and send it to Cyke?!”**

Nathan smirked. “I think it would be an amusing way to officially announce our relationship, don't you?” When Wade just stared at him, Nathan added, “And I think we could rig something up so we could see Scott's reaction.” 

**“Ermahgerd you're being serious,”** Wade said, looking at Nathan in wonder, before he shook his head slightly, frowning. **“Don't you think we should maybe wait to see if this... _thing_ between us even works out?”** he asked. 

“We could post the video in faith that it will,” Nathan suggested, lips curved in a smug smile. 

Wade narrowed his eyes, pointing a finger at the other man accusingly. **“You just want to piss your dad off!”**

“Is it that obvious?” Nathan asked, raising his eyebrows, smug smile turning into a full-on smirk.  
Wade dove forward and wrapped his arms around Nathan's neck, trying to kiss the smug right off his face.

* * *

**_The next day…_ **

* * *

Yes, Logan followed Deadpool's blog. Can you blame him for wanting to be informed about what Deadpool's up to so he can make sure the crazy merc doesn't do anything that will harm the world too much? 

Of course, Deadpool had only started the blog recently—in his first post, he'd said it was Hydra Bob's idea. 

And okay, so maybe Logan was actually mostly following Deadpool's blog because Deadpool had talked him into it (read: wouldn't shut up and leave him alone until he followed the blog), but whatever. Unless Deadpool had 'talked' hundreds of other people into following his blog, Logan had absolutely no idea how Deadpool had managed to get so many followers in such a short amount of time. 

It wasn't like Deadpool usually posted anything that interesting—his posts were like hearing him talk, except weren't quite as annoying because you couldn't actually hear his voice, and you could always stop reading. 

Still, if Logan wanted to laugh and/or facepalm, Deadpool's blog was a pretty good place to look for both. 

So when Logan checked Deadpool's blog that morning, he was expecting one of the usual rants about how you shouldn't get acid into open wounds because it hurts, or how chimichangas weren't actually that good to eat but they made great explosive projectiles, or a video of him sticking a fake mustache on Doctor Doom, or something ridiculous like that, when instead he found:

* * *

_(attached: video of Deadpool chasing a toddler Cable around)_

So, several months ago my current boyfriend got de-aged into a baby (he was my best friend at the time, not my boyfriend)... and I had to catch him cuz he started running around... who knew babies could run so fast?! Especially if they're like half metal!! 

Anyways so I tried to use this video to blackmail him, but he wasn't embarrassed at all, so that didn't work out. He also said something really deep about love and how it translates between ages or something like that?? According to him it totally isn't creepy or anything, cuz he actually doesn't think of me like a father (ew) it was more like cuz he felt safety and comfort around me or something so that translated into a paternal connection in his baby mind or something?? Apparently watching this video made him realize that he actually deep down loves me like a love song... hey, I never said he made sense! 

Anyways so it was totally my BF's idea to post this video and announce our relationship status. We've gone from best buddies to boyfriends, so take that, suckahhs! I have a hot messiah boyfriend and you don't :P 

Also, everyone knows that Nate aka Nathan Gesundheit Summers aka Cable aka That Guy Who Built Providence And Became President Of Rumekistan, is alive, right? 

HE'S ALIVE!!! 

Check it! 

_(attached: photo of Wade and Nathan kissing)_

AND TAKE THAT YOU HOMOPHOBIC LOSERS!!! 

My boyfriend is from the future, where homosexuality is totally a thing and it's so not a big deal. LGBTQA equality is the future! It's stupid to try and prevent the inevitable. Geez I sound like Apocalypse or something, but this is different—understanding and love, not war, y'know. Just ask Deathlock. 

And just so ya'll know: anyone who comments making slurs about The Savior dating a guy like me will be laughed at; anyone who comments making homophobic or mutant-phobic slurs will be hunted down, and cut into little itty bitty pieces for the betterment of all the human race. 

You know who I am. You know I can find you. You know I will kill you. 

And to everyone out there struggling with shit: hey, look at me—I'm an ugly, cancerous, immoral (trying to get better with the moral thing, though), crazy, insane, pansexual mercenary, whose life has been a fucking toilet, and I found _love_ (in a hopeless place! Move those Rihanna hips!) and am actually starting to get my life together for maybe the first time ever—and if _I_ can do it, who can say you can't do it too?! 

YEEEEAAAAAHH! Be yourself, and don't hurt anybody unless they truly and completely DESERVE to be hurt! (Killing is bad for you—leave it for the professionals!) 

I used to think I was alone in the world, and that I couldn't afford to hope, but... 

_(attached: selfie of a smiling Nathan and a grinning Wade holding up a peace sign)_

_(attached: photo of Wade trying to bend an amused Nathan's metal fingers into a peace sign)_

So I mean, if it turns out there's actually hope for me, there could be hope for you, too—that's all I'm sayin'. 

Deadpool OUT!

 _(attached: photo of Wade having just jumped into a confused but fond-looking Nathan's arms)_

P.S. Does anybody know of a conveniently placed sunset Nate and I can ride off into? While riding in bumper cars!!! That would be awesome.

* * *

Logan smirked. “S'bout time,” he said gruffly, before heading off to find Cyclops.

* * *

* * *

“Congratulations, Slim,” Logan said, holding up his phone in the taller man's face. “Your son is officially _with_ someone, who just so happens t'also be yer best bet at keepin' yer son from takin' over the world.” 

Cyclops took Logan's phone, glancing at the post, his eyes landing on the photo of Wade and Nathan kissing. A muscle in his jaw ticked. 

“Ya gotta watch the video, Slim,” Logan prodded, a smirk on his face as he leaned back against the conference table, arms crossed as he chewed on a toothpick. 

Cyclops tapped the play button for the video, and even though his rose-quartz visor hid his eyes, Logan could still identify the softened expression as Scott watched the toddler that was his son—the soft smile laced with guilt and sadness. 

And then of course the blank shock when the toddler Nate called Deadpool his 'dada,' turning quickly to anger. His hand clenched around the phone. 

“You break that phone, yer buyin' me a new one,” Logan pointed out. 

Scott forcibly relaxed his grip on the device. 

“You might want ta actually _read_ the post, y'know,” Logan said, a smirk twisting his lips, the toothpick still sticking out of his mouth. 

Taking a deep breath in and out through his nose, Scott read through the post, his expression changing to one of surprise. Getting to the bottom of the post, he turned to look at Logan, questioning. 

“I know, right?” Logan snorted with his teeth still clenched around the toothpick, taking his phone back and stuffing it in a pocket of his jeans. He removed the toothpick from his mouth, snapping it between his fingers. “I think this'll be good for 'em.” 

“I knew they were friends, but...” Scott said, shaking his head. “But _love?_ Deadpool is _the_ loose cannon.” 

“Love doesn' make any sense,” Logan pointed out. He raised his thick eyebrows, mouth quirking as he added, “Besides, if there's anyone that can keep Wade relatively under control, it's Cable. Just imagine if every time Wade was botherin' ya, you could just call up yer son to deal with 'im.” 

“...You do realize that Deadpool is going to think this makes him an official member of the X-Men, right?” Scott asked, sounding exasperated, lifting a hand to rub at his face. 

“And he's automatically invited to all yer Summers' Thanksgivin' dinners,” Logan added dryly. 

Scott turned to glare at him, the force of his glare easily felt even through the visor. 

“Hey, there's worse people yer son could date,” Logan shrugged, going for another tactic. 

“Like who?” Scott challenged. 

“Prester John?” Logan offered, lips twitching. 

Scott choked, and Logan laughed his gruff laugh, turning to leave the room. 

“Oh, and Slim,” he said, stopping in the doorway to turn back and look at the other man knowingly. “Ya might want ta call up yer son for a father-son talk. Tell 'im yer glad he's alive, maybe offer either yer support or yer disapproval for his relationship. Although,” Logan seemed to be finding this whole situation incredibly amusing, “offering yer support would definitely go over _better._ Especially if yer tryin' ta repair family ties, or somethin' along those lines.” 

Logan left, and Scott sunk down in a chair, his face in his hands. 

“You don't have to, you know,” Emma Frost said, coming up behind him to massage the muscles of his shoulders, coercing his tense muscles to relax as she leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“I'm his father,” Scott said, removing his face from his hands to look at her. “And I've been an _awful_ one. I should...” 

“You had to send him into the future in order to save his life,” Emma said gently, sitting down in the chair next to him, turning to look at him. “You did what any parent in that situation would have done.” 

Scott sighed, looking down. “So. You heard the entire conversation, then?” 

“Just the last part,” Emma said. “But Deadpool's blog post is trending. It's the talk of the entire mansion.” 

Scott groaned, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. 

“I figured I should come see how you were dealing with it,” Emma said, placing a comforting hand on his knee. 

“Thanks,” he said, sighing as he sat back up to look at her. 

“Do you want backup when you contact Cable?” she asked, tilting her head as she regarded him. 

“No,” he said, straightening back and shoulders. “I think I can handle a talk with my son. And it's the least I can do...” 

Emma nodded, standing up and squeezing his shoulder slightly, before she left him alone, her white heels clicking against the floor. 

Scott just sat there for a few minutes, before stealing himself and getting up to walk over to the monitor, calling his son via the video chat. 

Several moments later Cable's head and shoulders appeared on the screen, left eye glowing yellow, unreadable, while his right eye, the blue one marked above and below with scars, smiled. 

“Father,” Cable greeted, with what was probably smug amusement in his tone. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I wanted to let you know that I'm glad you survived,” Scott said honestly. “And to, well...” he scratched the back of his neck, looking away, “... _congratulate_ you...? On your... _relationship_... with Deadpool?” 

Cable raised his eyebrows, though he also smirked slightly. “I'm surprised you would approve,” he said. 

“Well, I don't approve of you being with _Deadpool_ , per say,” Scott admitted, head tilting back up to meet his son's gaze through the visor. “But I _do_ approve of you being _happy_ , so as long as you two actually do love each other and being with Deadpool makes brings you contentment, then I approve of _that._ ” 

Cable's gaze softened to something pleasantly surprised, and almost _grateful._ “I appreciate that,” he said, nothing but genuine, before his expression tightened minutely. “And you and the X-Men _will_ make an effort to be more tolerant of Deadpool, right?” 

“We'll _try_ ,” Scott said, sighing slightly and closing his eyes behind his visor—not that Nathan could tell, what with the ruby-quartz hiding his eyes. “But he doesn't exactly make it _easy._ ” 

“I'll make sure he makes an effort, as well,” Cable said with a hint of a smile. 

**“Naaaaate!”** came Deadpool's voice, before he launched himself into Cable's lap, wrapping his arms around the other man's neck and kissing him enthusiastically. Wade seemed to be wearing a t-shirt and sweats rather than his Deadpool suit, the ruined skin of his arms, head and face fully on display. **“Whatcha doin'?”** he asked as he pulled back, grinning. 

“Talking to my father, actually,” Cable said, amused, nodding at the screen. 

Wade turned to look at Scott Summers, grinning and waving energetically. ,b>“Heya Cyke! Mind if I borrow your son for a bit? Thanks!”

And then Wade smooched Cable again, hands slipping noticeably up Cable's shirt, and there was definitely tongue being involved in that kiss, which Cable was most definitely reciprocating eagerly.

Scott cleared his throat and averted his eyes—not that you could really tell through the visor, of course.

“Wade, not now,” Cable said, pushing Wade back gently, somewhere between fond and exasperated. “We're having a father-son talk.” 

**“Mm, I always hated those,”** Wade said, moving his mouth to Cable's neck, licking and sucking. **“So much angry yelling.”**

“Wade...” Cable said, trying to sound annoyed, though it didn't really work. Wade nipped at Cable's clavicle, and Cable moaned softly, tilting his head back and allowing Wade more access to his neck. 

“Um,” Scott said, head tilted away as he fidgeted uncomfortably. “If you're busy, Nathan, then...” 

“One second,” Cable murmured, pushing Wade away slightly, just enough to allow Cable to mouth at a sensitive spot on Wade's neck, making the mercenary moan and relax against him as Cable began rubbing circles into his back. Cable kissed Wade like he was actually something _beautiful_ —not like he was the deformed, repulsive, deranged mercenary that he was. There was no disgust or hesitation there as he touched and sucked at the mercenary's cancer-ravaged skin. 

_'Somebody save me,'_ Scott thought desperately, not looking as Cable pressed a kiss to the corner of Wade's lips, about to turn back to Scott when Wade sat up and captured Cable's lips back into an enthusiastic kiss. 

“Scott,” Emma Frost said, appearing like some lovely, magical creature in the doorway, hands on her hips. “You're needed down in the Danger Room. Bobby got himself locked alone in a Savage Land simulation. Again.” 

“I'm right on it,” Scott said hurriedly, giving a quick, “Talk to you later, Nathan,” before turning off the video chat, collapsing back into a chair with a groan, covering his face in his hands and looking like he was trying to curl up and disappear. 

“I thought they were cute together,” Emma said, amused. 

Scott just groaned again. 

“And also, Bobby really did get himself locked in the Danger Room with a simulation that refuses to turn off,” Emma added. “I wasn't making that up.” 

Scott shot up and hurried out of the room. “ _Dammit_ , what did Bobby do to piss off Prodigy _this_ time?!”

* * *

* * *

As soon as Scott turned off the video chat, Wade collapsed off Nathan's lap and onto the ground, laughing uproariously, clutching his stomach as his legs kicked in the air with mirth. 

**“Ahahahahaha did you SEE Cyke's face?!”** he chortled. 

“I was a little distracted,” Nathan admitted, smirking as he got up, closing his laptop and heading to the kitchen off his safehouse to grab a glass of water. 

**“Your father got _trolled!_ Trollolololololed!”** Wade said gleefully, calming down enough to sit up, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. 

“I read your blog post,” Nathan said, taking a sip of water as he watched the merc stand up and brush off his ass, even though the floor was perfectly clean. “It was quite nice, actually.” 

**“Riding off into the sunset on bumper cars would be _seriously_ awesome,”** Wade grinned, swaggering into the kitchen and bumping hips with Nathan, making the water in his glass slosh over the sides, getting Nathan's hand wet. 

Nathan carefully set down the glass, then grabbed the laughing Wade to wipe his wet hand on Wade's Deadpool shirt, smiling as he did so.

 **“Oy! I am _not_ a _towel_ , Nate!”** Wade protested, grabbing the water glass and dumping it over Nathan's head in retaliation. 

Nathan blinked as the water soaked his hair and ran down his face, before he smirked. “But your _shirt_ makes a fine towel,” he said slyly, moving his hands beneath Wade's shirt and sliding them up his sides, removing the shirt from over his head. 

**“Hey!”** Wade protested, as the smug Nathan used his shirt to dry his hair off. **“I was _wearing_ that you putz!”**

“Hm,” Nathan murmured, drying his face with Wade's shirt, which smelled of gunpowder, Wade's sweat, and a little bit like blood. “Then here, you can have it back,” he said, handing Wade the damp shirt, smirking, even as his eyes roved over the exposed skin of Wade's chest, the scars and defined, rock-hard muscles. 

**“But now it's wet,”** Wade whined, tossing the shirt back into Nathan's face. **“I changed my mind, I don't want it anymore, you can have it, it looks good draped over your head like that with my Deadpool insignia on your face, hehe _Timely,_ ”** Wade said with a totally manly, maybe slightly unhinged giggle. 

Nathan took the shirt off his face, holding it up to fold it neatly, setting it on the counter. 

**“Hey, that's unsanitary!”** “You put my sweaty shirt where food gets prepared and all that! Hygiene is very important!”

Nathan just smiled at him, unconcerned, stepping forward to wrap his arms around the mercenary and pull him close, kissing him deeply, hands exploring Wade's skin, making him shiver. 

When they pulled away, panting slightly, Nathan took Wade's chin and looked at him. “Do I really give you hope, Wade?” he asked, his voice a quiet murmur, left eye blank, right eye a deep blue, hopeful, searching. 

Wade stared at him, biting at his lip. **“I dunno,”** he said, looking a down, a fist clenching in Nathan's shirt. **“I mean I'm gonna enjoy this while it _lasts_ , and I hope it'll last a while, but... nice things don't _happen_ to me, Nate,”** he said, still not looking at Nathan. **“Not to _me_. And when they do, they don't _last_ , or... I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop and explode and make my internal organs splatter everywhere, y'know?”**

Nathan traced a hand over his cheek, a thumb rubbing gently beneath his eye. 

A dry sob hitched in Wade's chest and he closed the short distance between them, wrapping his arms around Nathan and burying his face in the mutant's shirt, both his hands clenching into the material, trying to keep from shaking as Nathan held him close, rubbing comforting circles into his back. 

**“I _want this_ , Nate,”** Wade said, eyes clenched shut as he hid his face in Nathan's shirt, breathing in the smells of sweat and metal. **“I want this so much I don't think I can hope to _keep_ it without breaking apart when I _lose_ it. Cuz some things _don't heal_ , Nate,”** he lifted his head to see Nathan's sad expression and immediately looked away, **“healing factor be _damned_** , and don't stop _hurting_ no matter how many times you try to cut them out. My heart's a fucking _tumor_ , just like the _rest_ of me...” 

Wade's grip on Nathan's shirt loosened, leaving behind wrinkles as he moved his hands to Nathan's chest, tracing the seam between metal and skin through the fabric. **you have hope in me—in _us_ —and since you have such a _ridiculous amount_** of hope, maybe it'll be enough to make up for my _lack_ of it.” 

“Wade...” Nathan said, tilting the mercenary's chin up. 

Wade clenched his eyes shut. 

“Wade, look at me,” Nathan said, tone soft but authoritative. 

Wade shook his head, keeping his eyes tightly shut. 

Nathan kissed his neck, his jaw, the corner of his lips. “Wade, _look at me._ ”

Wade bit his lip and opened his eyes warily. 

Nathan held his gaze, putting his flesh hand on the mercenary's cheek as he said seriously: “I want this too, Wade. I want _you._ ” 

There was so much genuine feeling in his words, his gaze, his touch, that it was all Wade could do not to flinch and look away. 

“And I'm going to _fight_ for this, Wade,” Nathan continued soberly. “No matter what happens. I'm not going to let _anything_ tear us apart—not this time.” His thumb stroked the mercenary's cheek. “You just have to promise me that you will fight for this too, Wade.” 

Wade just stared at him, like he couldn't even comprehend what Nathan was saying. 

Nathan's lips twitched, a little bit sad, a little bit wry, a little bit of something not worth trying to put the word to because it was too terrifying. 

“Because this,” Nathan said, leaning down to kiss Wade, his hand moving to the back of the mercenary's bald head as Wade kissed him back desperately, “what we have,” Nathan continued as he pulled back just enough to meet Wade's gaze again, “this is _worth fighting for._ Do you understand?” 

**“No,”** Wade stated flatly. **“No, I don't understand this at all. This doesn't make any sense!”** He tore away from Nathan's grasp, throwing up his hands and walking to the other side of the kitchen, saying, **“This makes less sense than Captain America hanging up his shield to start playing lead guitar in a punk rock band!”**

“It's _love_ , it doesn't have to make sense,” Nathan pointed out, though he didn't chase after the merc, sensing Wade needed space. 

**“Don't use the L-word!”** Deadpool practically shrieked, whirling around to stare at Nathan, eyes wide, hands splaying back over the sides of his bald head like he'd be tearing at his hair if he'd had any. 

“What, 'love'?” Nathan asked, raising his white eyebrows as he leaned back patiently against the kitchen counter. 

**“I'm already _this close_ to pissing my pants in abject terror!”** Wade exclaimed, holding his thumb and forefinger a centimeter apart. There was a panicky light in his eyes. **“Stop making it _worse_** , Priscilla!”  
Nathan looked at him like he was a puzzling conundrum that needed to be solved. 

**“And stop looking at me like that!”** Wade snapped, hands clenched and body tense, defensive. 

Nathan's face settled into an infuriating calm. “I'm not going to give up on you, Wade,” he said, quiet but sure. “It's okay if you make mistakes—hell, _I'm_ going to be making mistakes. This is a new for both of us. Honestly, I'm just as scared as you are—I'm just not as good at showing it.” He smiled slightly, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. “So just don't give up on _me_ , either, alright?” 

Wade seemed to deflate, leaning back against the wall and sliding down to the floor, arms resting straight out on his knees, head lowered and hands limp except for the fingers of his right hand twitching slightly. **“Heh,”** he said, tilting his head back to look over at Nathan across the kitchen from him, a wry smirk twisting at Wade's lips. **“You couldn't get rid of me if you _tried_ , Nate. I'm _damn difficult_ to get rid of.”**

“We'll figure this out,” Nathan said, sitting down cross-legged where he was and leaning back against the cabinet doors, lips twitching. “Eventually.” 

There were a few moments of silence where they both just sat there on opposite sides of the kitchen floor, watching each other. 

**“Well,”** Wade said, before the silence could stretch into the realm of awkwardness. **“I guess this is where I crawl back to you, huh? Or are you gonna crawl back to me, for once?”**

“Nobody has to crawl anywhere, Wade,” Nathan said, looking almost amused. 

**“This is awkward,”** Wade said. 

“It doesn't have to be,” Nathan replied easily. 

Wade tilted his head. **“I want to kiss you again,”** he said bluntly. 

“You don't have to ask, Wade,” Nathan said, smiling softly. 

**“But we're on different sides of the kitchen,”** Wade pointed out. **“And there might not be a fence between us this time, but there's still a long expanse of tile floor.”**

Nathan raised his eyebrows. 

**“And if I'm not crawling to you, and you're not crawling to me, maybe we should meet halfway,”** Wade suggested. 

Nathan smiled slightly. “Okay,” he said, standing up and walking to the center of the kitchen floor, waiting expectantly. 

Wade started rolling across the floor, legs stretched out and arms above his head like a child rolling down a grassy hill, all the while singing, **“Meet me halfway, right at the borderline is where I'm gonna waiiit, for you!”**

He rolled into Nathan's feet, flopping over onto his back to stare up at the larger man, who was looking down at him and chuckling slightly. 

Getting up to his knees, Wade made a “c'mere” gesture. **“That's not halfway, Priscilla. You're gonna have to go a little farther than that.”**

Eyebrows raising slightly, Nathan knelt down on the floor on one knee, only to immediately find Wade's body pressed against him, Wade's lips on his, Wade's tongue in his mouth, Wade's hands in his hair. 

Nathan moaned slightly into the kiss, pulling Wade closer, hands roaming over the mercenary's pleasantly textured skin. 

**“Sooo, Nate,”** Wade said, pulling back with a smirk, **“do you want to eroticize?”**

“Isn't that what we were just doing?” Nathan pointed out, panting as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes lingering on the mercenary's lips, which were still smirking. 

**“Like we used to do on Providence?”** Wade said, making a vague gesture, before adding, **“Well, okay, we were actually _sparring_ , but Irene kept cracking jokes about us eroticizing, even though I don't think we really were at the time I don't think? So do you want to _eroticize_ aka spar?”**

Wade pulled back further, glancing around the room—anywhere but at Nate. **“Cuz you're making me have feelings and I really want to hit you for it, and it's been a while, and you know you find violence sexy, too, and I'm actually going to** _freak out_ with all this kissing stuff but _fighting_ I'm comfortable with, and—”

“It's alright, Wade, you don't have to keep explaining,” Nathan said, lips quirking as he stood up. “I get it, trust me.” 

He walked into the large, spacious, high-ceilinged living room, Wade following after him, the two of them pushing all the furniture to the edges of the room to clear an area. 

Nathan stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside, turning back to Wade, the both of them shirtless and barefoot, wearing only loose, flexible sweatpants. 

Wade's eyes roved over his half-metal chest, and Nathan couldn't help but smirk slightly as he relaxed into a fighting stance. 

“When you're rea—” Nathan started, breaking off as he had to duck to avoid Wade's foot flying at his face. 

Nathan responded with a metal-armed punch, and the fight was on—both of them holding back, but not by much. They weren't aiming to kill, of course, but they weren't holding back to deal the pain, knowing they could each take whatever the other dealt out. 

Still, it was almost more of a dance than anything else, fluid bursts of sustained motion with each move bleeding into the next like violent shades of watercolor, an abstract painting where lines had no clear beginning, end, or edges—nothing but a chaotic mass of blurred lines that, from a distance, would look like two different, vibrant shades, their stark contrast contributing to the drama of the vicious dance, Wade's constant chattering providing a distracting and disjointed soundtrack. 

He was telling a story involving a butterfly knife, a watermelon, Latin music, and the Egyptian god Osiris, to which his sparring partner mostly listened, though contributed the occasional comment or inquiry. Fighting was so natural to both of them they had to talk to keep from getting bored. 

Nathan was a fighting machine—hard, fast, brutal, and efficient, not a single unnecessary movement. He'd been trained for battle since the time he could walk, had been fighting wars his entire life, and it showed. 

Wade, for his part, was a bit more acrobatic than was strictly necessary—flips and flourishes and flying kicks—which would have been impractical if he wasn't so damn unpredictable. 

It was hard to tell where Wade was going to be, what he was going to do next—harder still to tell when he was going to do something so stupid it would throw his combatant for a complete loop. 

Like, for example, if instead of just ducking a punch he dropped to the ground and started randomly breakdancing. 

Which also had the consequential effect of sweeping Nathan's feet out from under him, knocking him to the ground. 

And then he found himself straddled by Wade, the mercenary pinning his arms above his head with one hand, Wade's other hand trailing down the seam between metal and flesh all the way from Nathan's neck down to his navel. Nathan's breath hitched. 

**“I think I like seeing you flustered like this, Priscilla,”** Wade purred, leaning down over him, hot breath tickling over Nathan's ear. **“It's a good look on you. Kinda like the lack of shirt and the hunger in your eyes. Have I ever told you that silver is _definitely_ your color?”**

They were both sweaty from the exertion of their sparring, and Nathan was panting slightly, his already raised heartbeat picking up further as Wade kissed him, almost hesitant at first before evolving into something much more heated. 

Growling lowly, Nathan broke Wade's hold on his wrists and flipped them over so that he was then straddling Wade, leaning over him and kissing him hungrily. 

**“You know what you have in common with your dad, Summers?”** Wade panted slightly as Nathan started nipping and sucking at his neck, tasting the salt from his sweat, hands roaming over scarred skin. 

“I don't think I want to talk about my dad right now,” Nathan said, nipping down especially hard on Wade's shoulder, making the mercenary moan and squirm. 

**“You're both _control freaks,_ ”** Wade informed him anyway, even as Nathan's mouth moved down his body. **“But you know what miss Emma Frost and I have in common?”**

Nathan rose back up to occupy Wade's lips with another kiss, possibly with the intention of silencing him. 

**“We both _like it,_ ”** Wade panted as soon as he had air again, pupils enlarged. 

“Is that so?” Nathan murmured against Wade's ear, nibbling at the cartilage. 

Wade moaned. 

Nathan moved his mouth back down again, licking and sucking down Wade's chest, his tongue flicking over one of Wade's nipples. 

Wade bucked at the action, rubbing their half-hard cocks together through their sweatpants, making Nathan growl and gasp. 

**“Shit!”** Wade said, eyes hazed over with lust clearing somewhat in panic as he sat up and pushed Nathan off him. **“Do we have a safeword? I think we need to establish a safeword and I need—I mean—cold shower!”** He leapt to his feet and dashed out of the room, the slam of the bathroom door following only a few moments later. 

“Wade?” Nathan asked the empty room, blinking in confusion through his lustful haze, before his brain finally caught up with him, his eyes widening as he cursed under his breath. “Pushed him too far...” He sighed, adjusting his sweatpants as he stood up, glancing towards the hall where Wade had fled. 

“Need to take things easier with him, Nathan,” he murmured to himself, compassion crossing his features. “He's not used to this.” 

Wade had told him earlier that the affection was freaking him out. Nathan shouldn't have pushed, but he'd gotten caught in the moment, having Wade pin him down like them, having Wade's lean body beneath him... 

Nathan shook his head, dispelling the recent memory. 

What mattered now was Wade's mental state. Nathan had to make sure he hadn't done too much damage, had to make sure Wade wasn't beating himself up, had to reassure him. 

Nathan walked down the hall to the bathroom, where the sound of running water was audible through the door. 

“Wade?” he asked, his flesh hand touching the doorframe lightly as he waited. 

He received no answer. 

“Wade,” he said, raising his voice slightly to be sure he was heard above the running shower. “It's alright. I'm sorry I went too far. We can take this slow, Wade. I don't mind. However long it takes for you to be comfortable with this... just take your time, it's fine.” 

Nathan closed his eyes as he took a breath. Wade didn't answer. 

“I'm not going to abandon you again, Wade,” Nathan said, opening his eyes, though he kept his gaze lowered. “I know you might not believe me... have no _reason_ to believe me... but I meant it when I said that I _want you_. That I want _you_. And what you wrote in your post was true, Wade, whether you actually believe it or not yet—there _is_ hope for you. You don't have to hope yet, and we don't have to get that intimate yet, if ever. I don't want to do anything that you're not comfortable with, Wade.” 

Wade still said nothing, the only sound the rushing water of the shower. 

“I'm going to be here for you, Wade,” Nathan said with conviction, raising his head to look at the door. “I just want you to know that.” 

Nathan waited for a few moments. When it was clear Wade was still not going to say anything, Nathan turned, walking down the hall to the other bathroom. He could really use a cold shower as well...

* * *

* * *

Wade sat naked on the floor of the shower as the cold water ran over his skin. His legs were pulled up, his arms folded over his knees, head resting on his arms. 

He heard Nathan. Heard him being all reassuring and shit. It was... it was _nice_. What had he ever done to deserve something so nice?! Why would _Nathan Savior Of The World Summers_ want _him?!_ Because Nathan _loved_ him?

Love, _ha_. Nobody loved him. Nobody... 

Maybe he should leave. Maybe he should just leave, get out of this before... 

But he knew Nate. He knew when Nate had set his mind to something, he knew that _look_ that Nate got when he was determined, and he knew that Nate did _not stop_ until he accomplished it or died trying. 

And Nate kept getting that expression when he told Wade that he _wanted_ him. So if he ran, Nate would come after him. Chase him. 

It might be fun to be chased. For, like, reasons other than somebody chasing him to try to kill him.  
But what would that get him? He couldn't just _disappear_ —and Nate had tricked him into posting that video and those pictures and stuff on his blog, and now everybody thought (knew?) they were together! He couldn't run when he'd just admitted it like that... Nate had totally tricked him. 

Damn Nate and his stupid fucking sexy body. Damn Nate and his intelligent smarts. Damn Nate for fucking _caring_. 

Wade hurt—if not _destroyed_ —everything that he cared about. He fucked everything up. He wanted this too badly to want to fuck it up, but he would fuck it up, eventually. It would be better if he could just leave... 

But he knew that if he left, he wouldn't come back... 

Damn, but making out with Nate like that had felt _so good_... he couldn't even remember the last time he'd been touched like that. Touched like—no! Don't think it!

Gawd, it had to have been before Weapon X, hadn't it? Before he had skin like Freddie Krueger and before his brain was... well, his brain was always pretty fucked, but... the attention span of a goldfish on speed? Had he always had such severe ADHD, or was that all the healing factor? 

Wade couldn't even remember. 

But when Nathan had been touching him like that... Wade had freaked. He couldn't remember _ever_ being touched like that. It felt _too good_. It felt— _too much_. There was—gawd, for a few moments there he'd actually been unable to feel the pain from his skin. And that—that was... 

Wade shivered beneath the cold water. 

He'd really fucked it up, running out on Nate like that—as if Nate didn't _already_ know he was a _freak_ —you had to be a monster to not be able to stand getting touched in a nonviolent way, right? 

And yet Nate had come and tried to _reassure_ him. As if things would be okay, eventually. As if... 

Didn't Nate realize that Wade Winston Fucking Wilson was _never_ okay?! 

He was _mentally ill_ , for fuck's sake! _Terminally insane!_ And Nate _knew_ that! He knew about every single one of Wade's flaws, and yet still...? Loving _Deadpool_ had to be akin to the difficulty and uncertainty of fighting a _war..._

...Maybe _that_ was why Cable loved him. 

Maybe they were both doomed. There were never any _real_ winners in a war—just one side that got away with less casualties and damage. 

And Wade could bounce back from any amount of damage, so there wasn't anything for him to worry about, now was there? 

Which still left the question: _what the hell was Nathan thinking?!_

What _possible_ advantage could this give him?!

* * *

* * *

When Nathan came out from his own shower, dressed in a fresh t-shirt and pair of pants, Wade was nowhere in sight. 

He figured Wade was still showering, until he heard the click of a gun behind him. 

Turning, he found Wade standing there, all suited up in his Deadpool outfit, a gun aimed at Nathan's chest (notably: somewhere nonlethal). 

Nathan frowned. 

**“You _do_ know that I'm mentally _ill_ , right?”** Deadpool asked, tilting his masked head. **“Completely batshit _crazy?_ ”**

Nathan's lips twitched upwards, left eye twinkling. “Crazy like a _fox_ , maybe.” 

**“No, actually, I think that's _you,_ ”** Deadpool said, waving the gun at him, somewhere between casual and threatening. **“So seriously: what is the _point_ of this? What's your _motive_ , trying to convince me that you love me and let the world know that we're _together?!_ ”**

“My motive?” Nathan asked, leaning back against the wall, crossing his arms as his lips quirked again. “A very _selfish_ one.” He met Wade's gaze through the mask, smiling slightly but genuinely. “I want us to be lovers.” 

**“Ermah _gerd,_ ”** Deadpool said, looking up at the ceiling in exasperation as he dropped his arms to his sides, bending his knees slightly. **“Nate, seriously—OW!”** he yelped abruptly as he accidentally squeezed the trigger and shot himself in the foot, immediately dropping the gun and grabbing his foot, pulling it up to his chest as he hopped around on one leg, leaving a spattering of blood on the floor. 

“What do you want me to _say_ , Wade?” Nathan demanded, frustration leaking into his voice and expression as he strode over and grabbed Deadpool's shoulders, stopping him before he could hop backwards and fall over the coffee table. “What do I _need to say_ for you to understand this? What do I need to _do?_ ” 

**“I don't _know_ , Nate!”** Wade yelled, stepping back on his now-healed foot, throwing up his arms. **“I don't _know!_ This is just—!”** He waved his hands around wordlessly for a moment. **“I don't know how to _deal_ with this! It doesn't _syncretize_ with what I know about _life!_ ”**

“Wade, just—” Nathan said, stepping forward and pulling Wade into a crushing embrace, strong, muscular arms holding him tight. “Just _stop_ , please. Stop thinking so hard.” 

Nathan just hugged him, head face buried in Deadpool's neck. “It's not that complicated.” 

Wade remained tense for several moments, before he relaxed into the embrace, lifting his own arms up around Nathan's waist.

 **“...Who said I was thinking?”** he muttered into Nathan's hair. 

“Don't give me that, Wade,” Nathan murmured against Deadpool's neck. “Please. I know you're intelligent, you don't have to play stupid with me.” 

**“What if I want to play stupid with _me?_ ”** Wade asked. 

Nathan pulled back to look at the Deadpool mask covering Wade's face, fingering the edge of it. “Just...” he sighed, looking at the blank white eyes of the mask. “I'm going to do my very best to make this work, Wade. Promise me that you'll try, too.” 

Wade bit his lip behind the red material, head tilting down. “I'll try.” 

Nathan's nervous face eased into an expression of relief as he pulled Wade against him again, just holding him. “Thank you, Wade,” he murmured. “Thank you.” 

Slowly, Wade relaxed into the hug, leaning against him, arms tightening from an uncertain, loose encirclement, to a desperate embrace that seemed to say that he was never letting go. 

They stayed like that for a few minutes, not speaking, until was the sound of someone calling over video chat. Nathan pulled back slightly and glanced over at his computer. 

**“The author got tired of our sappiness,”** Wade said knowingly as he slowly let go of his lover. 

Nathan turned back to press a quick kiss over Wade's lips through the mask before walking over to his computer on the desk that had been pushed up against the wall. 

Wade found the desk chair and kicked it, sending it rolling across the floor to him, and Nathan nodded his thanks before sitting down in front of the computer and answering the call, Deadpool coming over to hover curiously over his shoulder. 

Cyclops's face appeared on the screen. “Nathan,” he said, his voice all business. 

“Dad,” Nathan said, raising his eyebrows questioningly. 

**“Hey, 'Clops!”** Deadpool greeted brightly, leaning over Nathan's shoulder. **“'Sup, dude?”**

If Scott so much as sent a glance Deadpool's way, it was impossible to tell through his ruby-quartz visor. 

“I need you here, Nate,” Cyclops said. “We have a problem.”

Nathan exhaled through his nose. “I'll be there,” he said. 

**“Nate,”** Wade said, poking the other man in the side incessantly. Poke poke poke poke. **“Hey Nate. Ask him if you can bring your boyfriend along!”** Poke poke poke poke poke. 

“Can I bring my boyfriend along?” Nathan asked his dad obediently, the corners of his lips twitching upwards as he grabbed Wade's hand, holding it in his own and rubbing a thumb over the back of Wade's hand. 

Wade stilled, looking down at their hands. 

Nathan kept his gaze on his father, expression silently but clearly saying that the only correct answer to the questions was Yes. 

Cyclops pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes,” he said, sighing slightly. “You can bring your… boyfriend, son.” 

Wade cheered and tried to hug Cyclops through the computer screen. 

Cyclops's reservations about giving the go-ahead to bring Wade diminished slightly when he saw the intensity at which his son was smiling as he gently restrained Wade and pressed a brief kiss to his temple, quietly asking him to calm down, and Wade actually making an effort to do so. 

As long as Nathan was happy, Cyclops reminded himself. 

(And as long as Wade didn't mess up their mission.)

**Author's Note:**

> _(The following is the ending note I'd written after writing this fic in the summer - lol I don't remember writing this note, reading it feels weird.)_
> 
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> 
> I totally did not know that this was how this fic was going to go! I just wanted to have Wade try to blackmail Nate with a video of him as a baby, but then this thing ran away from me and I was just like “Whaaaaa?!” 
> 
> And MAN are these two complicated! Nothing I write with them turns out like what's in my head... there's just nothing simple or easy about either of them. And also, adorable fluff much? Gahhhh. I ship these two so hard it's utterly ridiculous. This is literally the first time I've ever shipped anyone so hard. WTF. How are they so adorable?! And amazingly complex and complementary. Guh. Marvel's odd couple and a case of opposites attracting and all that. 
> 
> And I really can't write smut. This is literally the most smutty thing I've ever written. And the most romantic, probably. These two have officially gotten me into Yaoi. Oy.
> 
> But there's also a frikkin' ton of smut on AO3, and with these two—I mean I'm pretty sure there's not too much on the front that hasn't already been written. So have something that _hasn't_ been written yet! :P Taking a different approach to their relationship here. 
> 
> Even if that different approach is horribly, disgustingly fluffy. Ugh. XD 
> 
> Also, during their sparring session, I couldn't fit in the story about the butterfly knife, the watermelon, Latin music, and the Egyptian god Osiris, but I did write the conversation, so it's posted as a separate story :3


End file.
